Not again

[praiseandglory]

When Porthos stepped into their tent and found himself in a strange, yet familiar hallway, he knew exactly where he was. On either side of the hallway were doors - to rooms, suites, and many more strange places beside. The noises of the camp were gone, but the smell remained, on him, of gunpowder and blood, soot and grime. His usually elegant clothes had seen better days, his now longer hair was tied back and mostly hidden under a kerchief that might have once been white. His pistol was empty and he needed to clean his sword - Treville's sword.

The battlefield was now miles and years away, for all that it was also, somehow, right on the other side of a door. And, in his current mood, that made his blood boil as surely as Spanish insults.

"Not again!" he yelled, and punched the nearest wall with a gloved hand. He winced at the pain, but there was a dent in the wall now, and that felt slightly better.

Comments

[averygoodshot]

Aramis would know that shout anywhere. No time apart, no seeming danger, nothing. That voice is perhaps the voice of Aramis's conscience.

Of course, Porthos is not the only one who's found himself back here when he hadn't necessarily wanted to. It seems this Nexus has something of a grip on at least Aramis as well.

"Breaking your hand will hardly serve you," he notes. It is so very good to see Porthos, after all. How long has it been? Too long, it seems, judging by the warmth in his heart.

[praiseandglory]

Too long, by far, in a much darker way, for the way Aramis's voice strikes a slash of hurt across Porthos' chest. Instead of whirling around on him, Porthos takes a few seconds, making that hurt his own, before he turns around to face Aramis. "It isn't broken," he simply answers, his tone too even, the mark that he is holding things back.

[averygoodshot]

Porthos always has carried his heart, large and expressive, on his sleeve, hasn't he? Aramis shouldn't be surprised that he's hurt. Those years ago, he had to say no to going to war. He had - has- a penance to carry out. Too many women have died or nearly died because of him.

The cowl of his robe is a pristine white as he comes closer, his beard and moustache immaculately groomed. He gazes at Porthos warmly, smiling. "It is good to see you, my friend."

[praiseandglory]

"I'm sure it is," Porthos scowls. No need to ask when Aramis is from, from the look of him. He's from after abandoning them, that's when. "Are Athos and d'Artagnan here?" Athos, at least, has always seemed able to come and go between the hotel and their lives as he pleases.

[averygoodshot]

A different form of penance, then. All right. It isn't as if Aramis doesn't deserve it. (Though, he thinks, that his friends would be more understanding.)

"I don't know," he says, letting his hands drop. It's then that he looks Porthos over, head to toe. "Are you all right? are you injured?"

[praiseandglory]

"I'm fine," Porthos replies gruffly, because the cut on his arm is nothing but a scratch. The worst is that part of him is glad to see Aramis. It just makes his absence all the more wrong. He pauses, then adds, "I'll go see if my room's still free." While he's in this place again, he might as well make the most of it, and he would be lying if he said he hadn't missed showers.

[averygoodshot]

Just like that? Hurt flashes through Aramis's eyes and his shoulders lower just a little. "May I accompany you?" he asks, still searching Porthos's face.

Did he do such a terrible job of explaining his motives for staying at the monastery? Perhaps he had.

[praiseandglory]

"If you like," Porthos answers, already turning to go. This isn't the right floor for his room, so he's headed for the nearest stairs.

[averygoodshot]

"You came from the front," Aramis doesn't so much as state the obvious, walking a half-step behind. He has noted the war coming closer to the walls of the monastery. He would be lying if he said it hadn't been on his mind. Caring for the children, however, took a good deal of his time.

[praiseandglory]

"Yeah," Porthos confirms, shouldering the door to the stairs open. (He never got used to the lift.)

[averygoodshot]

While Aramis had no doubt he could again win Porthos's friendship, it isn't going to be easy, is it?

He follows down the stairs quietly. His robe may not be the most practical garb here. He will wait until Porthos finds his room to see if he is invited in to talk.

[praiseandglory]

When Porthos finds the door to his old room, it's unlocked, and the key is in the lock on the inside. The few possessions he had gathered during his stay are still inside, he finds out as he ventures further into the room. Including a few changes of clothes, still here in the closet. Those are going to be very welcome, after his shower. "I'm going to take a shower," he tells Aramis as he grabs some fresh clothes, and he walks into the bathroom to do just that.

It's difficult, looking at Aramis in that robe, so he's done as little of it as possible, only briefly making eye contact before turning away.

[averygoodshot]

It's difficult to not be looked at actually, and not entirely because, no matter how long he's spent in a monastery, Aramis is still vain. It's just that so much of the communication between the two of them has been nonverbal and now, Porthos won't even look at him.

"Would you rather I left you alone?" he asks, standing in the doorway.

[praiseandglory]

Porthos looks back at him at that, holding his gaze before he points out, "You're good at it."

[averygoodshot]

"Porthos," Armis replies, feeling a flush of both anger and remorse. "At least let me explain."

[praiseandglory]

"What's there to explain?" he scowls, daring Aramis to find something he hasn't already told Porthos.

[averygoodshot]

"Too ma -" Before continuing, Aramis steps inside and closes the door. "Too many women were threatened because of me. Too many women died. I had to do something. Aftrr the Queen. After Rochefort. I know I hurt you, Porthos, and I am sorry for that. Sorry beyond measure. Perhaps my life is made up of regrets, I don't know."

[praiseandglory]

"I'm sure abandoning your brothers will keep all those women safe," Porthos replies gruffly, unbuckling his sword and dropping it on the bed. His glove and armored gauntlet come off next, and the kerchief over his hair.

[averygoodshot]

"It was my penance!" Aramis nearly shouted. He rarely lost his temper with Porthos, but this is one of those moments. He takes a step forward, face flushed, before he stops himself. "Perhaps it's true: I could have fought and died in the battlefield. Is that what you rather I had done, Porthos? Forsaking my promise to God?"

[praiseandglory]

"Is that what God would rather you'd done?" Porthos shoots back with a scowl. He has stopped undressing, and is facing Aramis in his anger. "Forsaking your promise to your brothers? You chose to make Him that promise, forsaking us - and yourself."

[averygoodshot]

"Myself?" Aramis's eyebrows get lost in his hair, fallen in his face in his upset. "I haven't endangered you in what I've done, Porthos. I haven't gotten you killed, have I? Which is more than I can say for others."

[praiseandglory]

"You haven't got my back!" Porthos erupted, glaring at Aramis. That was the truth of it; he might yet die, in this war of theirs, and he was all right with that. But not having Aramis at his back made every day an uncomfortable struggle, despite d'Artagnan and Athos.

[averygoodshot]

Those words were ice on the heat of Aramis's fiery anger. It's the truth, after all, isn't it? His shoulders fall and he takes a deep breath.

"I am sorry that I didn't go to the front with you, Porthos. I am," he says quietly, taking a step forward. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

[praiseandglory]

"And now?" Porthos challenges him, still glaring. "What now, Aramis?" He made it sound like a thing of the past, but he was still wearing that bloody robe.

[averygoodshot]

They aren't in France at the moment, are they? Here they are in this place, which, for all Aramis knows, no longer houses the Queen, too.

No matter where he is, they cannot be together.

"Now," Aramis breathes out, "I would like to be your friend again. If you'll have me."